


Thrift Store

by parxbois



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: AU, Brendon Urie - Freeform, Fluff, Frerard, M/M, Ryan Ross - Freeform, Ryden, Thrift Store AU, frank iero - Freeform, gerard way - Freeform, it wasnt, my chemical romance - Freeform, pete is me in literally every situation, ryden is a thing here ok fight me, that sounded like sarcasm, that was sarcasm, tyler joseph - Freeform, what a revelation, wow this isnt sad at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 12:59:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11898246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parxbois/pseuds/parxbois
Summary: Frank and Pete go to a vintage store. When Frank buys a new hoodie, he finds a boy's library card in the pocket. He decides to track him down, for the good of humankind and definitely not because the boy in the ID picture is really, really cute.ora cute lil au because literally nothing bad happens in au's and happiness is good





	Thrift Store

I sit at my desk in mine and Pete's room, attempting to concentrate on my homework and failing. That's one of the many flaws of boarding school;it's fucking difficult to do work when your best friend is lounging on his bed behind you, waiting for you to get done so you can leave and go hang out with your other friends in their room. I spin round on my chair, watching Pete stare at the ceiling, probably counting the tiles or something. 'Dude, we need to go do something this weekend.' He says. 'I need a way to procrastinate the essay Mr Weekes set. I really don't get how he expects us to have it dones by Monday. That's two days, Frank!' I roll my eyes. 'Yes, Pete, I know the days of the week. Hey, my cousin told me about this vintage thrift store in town, we could go there and get pizza after?' I suggest. He sits up. 'Are we hipster enough for a vintage store, Frankie?' He eyes me carefully, smirking. I swallow, twirling my pen in my hands. 'Sure we are. Fuck. This isn't going to get done, I fucking hate english. Go to Tyler's; I'll come find you when I'm done, 'kay?' He sighs and rolls off the bed and onto the floor. I snort. 'Meant that.' He informs me, then gets up and leaves, ruffling my hair as he does so.  
When I finally get my essay done, I head over to Tyler and Josh's dorm. Brendon and Ryan are probably there too. I lock our door and head down the corridor. You can hang out in anyone's room as long as you're back in your own by ten, which is kind of dumb.  
If I was blind, I wouldn't need to know that Tyler and Josh's room number is 7, or that their room is on the left hand side of the hall. I can hear Brendon laughing like a hyena already. I'm not blind, though, so I knock and Ryan answers, grinning at me. 'Hey,Frank! You got that fucking essay done, then.' He says. I wiggle my fingers. 'Sure, except my hands are numb.' Ryan could be considered one of the more ordinary ones out of our group of friends. Which is weird, considering he's dating Brendon, the human embodiment of a dog when someone rings the doorbell. He throws me a can of coke and I catch it deftly, collapsing onto Tyler's bed, where he's clicking through snapchat stories and sighing at the others who are lying on the floor and laughing at something. 'Yo.' I say. 'You good?' He rolls over to face me. 'Right now?' I nod. 'Well, I'm currently debating finding more normal friends.' He gestures towards Brendon, Ryan, Josh and Pete who seem to be in tears over a meme. To us, that's considered normal.

Next morning, me and Pete lie in for a couple of hours because it's Saturday and usually we'd have to be wide awake and dressed by six. I vaguely hear Pete jump out of bed, throwing his duvet off himself and onto the wooden floor. 'Rise and shine, Frankie!' I burrow under my covers. 'No.' I mumble. 'Yes. Up!' And then he pulls my duvet out from underneath me and I tumble onto the floor. 'Morning!' He yells.

We head down to reception an hour or so later and sign out. That's the only rule on weekends; you have to sign out. They take it really seriously if you don't go where you say you're going. Last week, Pete went out to buy weed from his dealer, Joe. On the sign-out sheet, he said his reason for leaving was that he was going to visit his mom. He wasn't back for hours (probably fucking Joe) so the school called his mom, and that's the story of how Pete Wentz almost got expelled. We get the train into town-it's a direct journey. 'Which cousin recommended the store?' Pete asks, smudging his eyeliner in his phone's front camera. 'Dallon. You met him on my birthday last year, remember?' I say. 'Yeah! Long stripy scarf, bowtie?' I laugh. 'He has a doctor who thing.' The train shudders to a halt at our stop and we get off. 'Frank, most people have a doctor who thing. Not everyone dresses as him on the daily.' He adjusts his beanie so I almost can't see his eyes. 'The hipster look is really working for you.' I comment, as we enter the store. 'Just trying to blend in.' 

It's a big store, like a warehouse, kind of. Speakers are pumping out indie music and it's literally awesome. Thrift stores to me are what skate stores are to Pete. 'Hey, look at this!' He says, thumbing through a rack of band tees. 'Iron Maiden!' He checks the tag. 'It's vintage as well!' I laugh. Pete can sometimes miss the point a little bit. He holds up a black hoodie with a pair of cartoon-y green eyes on it. 'Check it out!' I take it from him and hold it up against my chest. 'You have to get it.' He says, just as a teenage girl with pink hair stalks past, shooting him a dirty look. Probably because he's wearing a top hat that I dared him to try on. I glare back at her then turn round to see Pete, completely oblivious, sifting through a bucket of CD's. We buy a few each, because they're a dollar for 3 and we can't not buy some. So after we've bought our shit, we get pizza, and then Pete drags me into the beauty store because 'Frank! I need more eyeliner.' While he deliberates, I pull my hoodie out of its bag and shrug it on, slipping my hands into the front pocket-and feel a piece of plastic. I pull it out and scan it; a laminated piece of pink paper. I turn it over. There's a small ID picture of a boy that looks about our age: chubby, pale, black hair. Cute. Gerard Way, it says. Belleville Library. I shove it under Pete's nose. 'Hmmm?' He mumbles, distracted. 'Someone left his library card in the pocket of my hoodie. He must have donated it without realising he'd left it in there.' Pete looks away from the beauty counter, and we head to the till with an eyeliner pencil that promises to make his eyes 'sparkle' and 'pop'. 'We have to find him and give it back.' I say. 'Belleville's not far.' Pete looks at me as we get on the train back to school. 'Is that code for 'I think this boy is hot and I want to meet him?' He says, as we find seats. 'Maybe.' 

Back at school, I go to the library and find the phone directory, flicking through the pages, searching for 'Way.' I ring a few numbers, but none of them have a clue who Gerard Way is. I ring the ninth number-ninth time lucky, perhaps. 'Donna here. Ways' Furniture Store, how can I help?' I swallow. 'Hi, do you happen to know a Gerard Way?' The woman on the phone hesitates for a second. 'Yes, that's my son. Why?' Finally. 'He left his library card in the pocket of a hoodie I bought.' The woman laughs. 'Oh, thank God! He's been panicking about that for ages now, what with the amount of books he reads. Shall I give you his number so you can sort it with him?' I exhale, a breath I didn't realise I was holding. 'Yes please.' 

The next weekend, I'm supposed to meet Gerard in a coffee shop round the corner from school. I sign out, tightening my scarf around my neck. It's freezing. Snow began to fall last night and hasn't stopped since, which is great when you can watch it with your best friend at night from your bedroom window, but not when it's midday and you're knee deep in snow. I arrive at the shop and walk in, scanning the customers and not seeing anyone who looks remotely like Gerard. I find a table in the corner, deciding not to order until he gets here. I'm beginning to think he's ditched me when he walks in. I wave at him, kind of nervous, but remind myself I'm only here to return something he's lost. He smiles back, says something to the dude at the counter and comes to sit down. 'Hi! We can get drinks here for free 'cause my best friend has a saturday job here. I asked him to bring us both a drink he invented himself. I hope you like it.' I grin. He sounds different than I imagined, his voice is higher. But I like it. 'Great.' I smile. 'Oh! Here.' I hand him the library card and he takes it, our finger brushing. He laughs. 'Thank you so much, I-' And then the barista comes over, a guy with a wild afro with a massive grin plastered on his face and two big mugs piled high with whipped cream, and places them down in front of us. 'Thanks.' I smile. He grins back, and punches Gerard lightly on the shoulder. 'Yeah, I donated that hoodie weeks ago. I totally freaked when I realised I'd donated my card with it! I read, like, constantly. So thanks.' He takes a sip of the drink. I wait till he's put the mug down because I don't want to look like I'm copying him, and try the drink. It's really good, hot chocolate-y, coffee-y, hazelnutty. 'This is good.' He laughs, his dimples appearing and his green-ish eyes sparkling. Maybe he uses the eyeliner that Pete bought. 'Yeah, Ray's a coffee wizard. So, you go to St. Mary's?' He asks. I told him this when he texted asking to meet here, saying it was just down the road. 'Yup. You know anyone there?' I ask, considering he lives literally two minutes away. 'Yeah, a bunch of people.' He reels off a list of dudes that I know really well. 'I'm friends with all of them!' I say. Gerard's hair is jet black and keeps falling in his eyes, and how is he that hot because I have never met anyone who looks like him, ever. 'What school do you go to?' I ask. 'Belleville High.' He laughs as my eyes widen. 'Yeah, yeah, don't worry, I'm not tough or anything. I wish!' He giggles and I kind of die right there. When we eventually leave an hour later, after discovering a load more things we have in common (music taste, we're both half italian) I head off in the direction of school while he walks the other way. I turn round and I can see him walking, a dark silhouette in the evening light. 'Hey Frank,' he yells. I spin round. 'Yeah?' He throws a snowball at me. 'Thank you!' I laugh. 'You're welcome.' 

That night, my phone buzzes with a text. It's from Gerard: 'Wanna go get more coffee sometime? I really like coffee. And you.'


End file.
